The next morning, the penthouse smelled like stale rain and cold marble. Adaline stood in front of the bathroom mirror, applying a third layer of thick concealer under her eyes. The pale, sickly hue of her skin was completely hidden beneath the expensive makeup. She slipped into a sharp Chanel suit, the structured shoulders giving her a false sense of armor.

She walked out of the bedroom holding a cup of black coffee. The front door clicked open. Gerard walked in. The crisp morning air clung to his coat. He had not come home last night.

He stopped in the entryway. He saw the coffee in her hand and his brow furrowed. It was a signature look of his, a habit he formed whenever something was out of place. "You should not drink black coffee on an empty stomach."

Adaline let out a dry laugh. She stepped back, avoiding his reaching hand as he tried to take the cup from her. "People getting a divorce do not need fake concern, Gerard."

Gerard's hand froze in midair. The air in the room instantly dropped ten degrees. He was not used to her speaking to him with such sharp edges. His eyes darkened.

He pulled off his tie and threw it onto the sofa. "Have you thought about what I said last night? My lawyers are waiting at the Wall Street office."

Adaline walked over to the console table. She opened the drawer, pulled out the divorce agreement, and dropped it onto the glass coffee table. She flipped it open to the last page right in front of him.

Gerard watched her. The corner of his mouth lifted into a cold smirk. He assumed she was finally giving in. "I will have my assistant transfer the compensation funds to your account by noon."

Adaline picked up the silver pen resting on the table. She held it for a second, then tossed it aside. The metal clattered loudly against the glass. "The compensation is too low. It is not enough to buy out two years of my youth."

The disgust in Gerard's eyes deepened. He crossed his arms over his chest. "So you finally show your true colors. You are just as greedy as I always thought."

A sharp, gnawing ache chewed at the lining of Adaline's stomach. She swallowed hard, forcing the pain down. She lifted her chin and looked him dead in the eye. "I am agreeing to this divorce because the man I truly love has returned to the country."

Gerard's pupils contracted violently. His tall frame suddenly stepped forward, closing the distance between them in a second. A massive wave of pressure rolled off him.

He stared down at her, his eyes searching her face for any sign of a lie. "Who is he?" His voice was dangerously low.

Adaline did not back down. She held her ground, looking right back at him. "He is a senior executive at a Wall Street investment bank. And he knows how to love someone much better than you ever could."

Gerard's jaw locked. A muscle ticked in his cheek. A sudden, unexplainable rage erupted in his chest. He reached out and grabbed Adaline's wrist. His grip was brutal, his fingers digging into her skin like iron clamps. "Do not play these pathetic games with me, Adaline."

Adaline winced at the pain. She twisted her arm, ripping her wrist out of his grasp. "Why? Are you the only one allowed to have a precious first love? Am I not allowed to have someone waiting for me?"

Gerard lost his temper completely. He lunged forward, grabbing her shoulders and shoving her hard against the cold wall. His chest heaved. His heavy breathing hit her cheek.

They were inches apart. Adaline could smell his cologne, but beneath it, she smelled the sharp, sterile scent of hospital disinfectant. The smell of Kena.

Her stomach tied into a violent knot. A wave of intense nausea hit her so fast she could not breathe.

She shoved both hands against his chest, pushing him away with all her strength. She ran across the room, threw open the bathroom door, and fell to her knees in front of the toilet. She violently dry-heaved, her body shaking as acid burned her throat.

Gerard stood in the doorway. The anger in his eyes froze. He watched her thin shoulders tremble with every heave. A brief flash of panic crossed his face.

He took a step forward and reached out to pat her back.

Adaline slapped his hand away without looking at him. "Get out."

Gerard stood frozen. Adaline reached up and flushed the toilet. She stood up slowly and walked over to the sink. She rinsed her mouth and looked up. In the mirror, she saw Gerard staring at her pale face. His eyes were calculating.

She knew he was suspicious. She had to hide the cancer. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and let out a cold laugh. "Do not flatter yourself. I am throwing up because looking at you makes me sick."

The words hit their mark. The brief moment of concern in Gerard's eyes vanished instantly. His face turned to stone.

"Be at the law firm at three o'clock," he said, his voice completely devoid of emotion.

He turned around and walked out. The heavy front door slammed shut behind him.

Adaline's knees gave out. She slid down the cold bathroom tiles and hit the floor. She pressed her hands against her stomach, trying to stop the agonizing cramps. She pulled a small orange pill bottle from her pocket, shook out two painkillers, and swallowed them dry.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out. It was a text message from the manager of an underground private club. "Your VIP booth is confirmed for tonight, Mrs. Crosby."

Adaline stared at the message. She was going to sign the papers today. She was going to end thirteen years of a stupid, one-sided love. She needed a drink. She needed to bury her feelings in a place where no one knew her name.

The underground private club in Manhattan was a sensory overload of heavy bass and expensive perfume. Adaline sat at the dimly lit bar, wearing a black velvet dress that exposed her shoulder blades. She lifted a shot of tequila and swallowed it in one go. The spicy liquid burned a path down her throat, irritating her fragile stomach lining, but the physical burn was a welcome distraction.

A few young Asian executives from Wall Street whispered nearby, their eyes scanning her like prey. Adaline ignored them. A man in a tailored suit approached and offered to buy her next drink. She gave him a cold look and shook her head. She stood up, her head spinning slightly, and walked toward the hallway leading to the restrooms.

As she passed the staircase, a muffled crash of glass from a VIP room on the second floor stopped her in her tracks. A low curse followed.

Adaline's heart slammed against her ribs. It was Gerard's voice.

She crept up the stairs and moved quietly down the carpeted hallway. She stopped outside the heavy door of the VIP room. It was slightly cracked open. She peeked through the narrow gap.

Gerard was slumped against a leather sofa. He was pulling at his tie, his chest heaving as he gasped for air. His face was flushed red, and sweat dripped down his temples.

Sitting across from him was Frederick Whitney, his biggest rival in the corporate sector. Frederick was smiling. "That whiskey should hit your bloodstream any second now, Gerard. Let us see how the board reacts when the photos of you and the girls get leaked tomorrow morning."

Adaline's blood ran cold. Gerard had been drugged. Frederick was setting up a trap to ruin his reputation and steal the upcoming merger deal.

Her first instinct was to call the police. But she stopped. If the police raided this club, the scandal would still hit the news. The Crosby family stock would plummet at the opening bell.

Frederick stood up and walked toward the door. "I will go get the entertainment ready."

Adaline quickly stepped back and pressed herself into the dark shadows of an alcove. Frederick walked past her without noticing, heading toward the back stairs.

The second he was gone, Adaline rushed to the VIP room door, slipped inside, and locked it behind her.

Gerard's eyes were bloodshot. He could not focus his vision. He let out a low, furious growl like a trapped animal. "Get the hell out of here."

Adaline ran to him. She clamped her hand over his mouth. "Be quiet. I am getting you out of here."

Gerard struggled, but then he stopped. He inhaled deeply. The familiar scent of cedar mixed with tequila filled his senses. The violent rage in his body quieted for a fraction of a second.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway outside. High heels clicking against the floorboards. Frederick was coming back with the women.

Adaline grabbed Gerard's arm and pulled him up. He was incredibly heavy. She dragged him toward the back of the room and pushed open the concealed staff door that she knew led to the service corridors.

They stumbled into the narrow, unlit hallway. Gerard's body heat was terrifying. He felt like he was burning alive from the inside out. He leaned heavily against Adaline, almost crushing her against the concrete wall.

The drug took full control. Gerard lost all sense of reality. He slammed Adaline against the cold wall, pinning her in place.

His hot mouth crashed down against her neck. His kisses were frantic, messy, and driven by pure chemical need. He let out a ragged, painful breath against her skin.

Adaline's heart hammered in her chest. She pushed against his solid chest. "Gerard, stop. Wake up."

He did not hear her. His strength was overwhelming. He grabbed both of her wrists and pinned them above her head with one hand. His eyes were completely dark, filled with a primal need to consume.

He reached for the neckline of her dress. Just as his fingers hooked into the fabric, the heavy metal security door at the end of the hall groaned open. A beam from a flashlight swept across the floor.

Adaline panicked. She leaned forward and bit down hard on Gerard's shoulder.

Gerard flinched. The sharp pain pierced through the fog in his brain just enough to make him loosen his grip.

Adaline grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the exit door before the security guard could spot them. They burst out into the underground parking garage that connected the club to The Obsidian Hotel next door.

She pulled out her keys, planning to shove him into her Porsche. But Gerard suddenly collapsed against the hood of a parked car. He curled into a tight ball, clutching his chest. The drug was pushing his heart rate to a dangerous limit.

She could not drive him like this. He needed to lie down immediately. Adaline dragged him toward the private elevator reserved for hotel VIPs. The Obsidian was a flagship property under the Crosby empire, and as the CEO's wife, her black card granted her emergency access to any vacant room. She pulled it out and swiped it. The doors opened, and she hauled him inside. She pressed the button for the penthouse suite, knowing it was kept strictly off the public registry for their family's private use.

The elevator shot upward. The sudden shift in gravity made Gerard sicker. He wrapped his arms around Adaline, burying his face in her neck, holding onto her like she was the only thing keeping him alive.

The doors dinged open. Adaline dragged him down the silent hallway and pushed open the door to the massive Obsidian suite. She kicked the door shut behind them.

Before she could even reach for the light switch, Gerard moved. He spun her around and pushed her hard against the thick carpet. The drug completely erased the last of his restraint. The room was pitch black, and there was no escape.

The darkness of the penthouse suite was absolute. Gerard's hands were rough, driven by a chemical fire that completely bypassed his rational mind. He grabbed the zipper of Adaline's black velvet dress and pulled. The sound of tearing fabric was deafening in the quiet room.

Adaline panicked. Her fingers scrambled across the glass coffee table, searching for anything to defend herself. Her hand closed around a heavy, cold ashtray. She lifted it high, ready to strike his head.

The faint neon light from the street below shifted, casting a pale glow across Gerard's face. He was covered in a cold sweat. His facial muscles twitched. A low, agonizing groan escaped his throat. He looked like a man being tortured to death.

Adaline's hand froze in the air. Thirteen years of loving this man crashed into her chest. She could not hurt him. Even now, when he was tearing her apart, she could not bring the heavy glass down on him.

Her arm dropped to the floor. The ashtray rolled away.

Gerard felt her resistance fade. His frantic kisses rained down on her collarbone and shoulders. He was completely lost in the drug, acting on pure, desperate instinct.

His large, calloused hand slid down the curve of her bare spine. His rough fingertips brushed against the skin of her lower back, tracing the delicate, intricate lines of a small butterfly tattoo inked flawlessly into her flesh.

Gerard's frantic movements paused for a fraction of a second. His raspy voice whispered into the dark. "Beautiful butterfly."

Adaline's whole body shivered. She closed her eyes. A single tear slipped down her cheek and soaked into the carpet. She let go of her fears and let him pull her into the storm.

The heavy rain lashing against the windows masked the sounds inside the room. The night dissolved into a chaotic blur of heat, pain, and desperate clinging.

Two hours later, the storm finally broke. The drug burned out of Gerard's system, leaving him completely exhausted. He collapsed onto the mattress and fell into a deep, heavy sleep.

Adaline lay beside him. Her entire body ached as if she had been run over by a truck. She forced herself to sit up. The movement triggered a violent cramp in her stomach. The cancer was a brutal reminder that this body was failing. She had no right to pretend this night meant anything.

She climbed out of bed and picked up her torn velvet dress from the floor. The zipper was completely ruined. She could not wear it. She walked into the massive walk-in closet and found a high-end hotel suit provided for VIP guests.

She walked past the bathroom mirror. The skin on her neck and chest was covered in dark red marks. His marks.

She turned on the shower. She turned the handle all the way to cold. She stepped under the freezing water, scrubbing her skin until it turned pink, trying to wash away the scent of his sweat and cologne.

When she finished, she dressed quickly. She packed her ruined dress into her bag. She walked back into the bedroom and stood next to the bed.

Gerard was sleeping peacefully. His sharp features were relaxed. Adaline reached out, wanting to touch his face one last time.

Her fingers stopped an inch from his cheek. She pulled her hand back. If he woke up and saw her here, he would never believe she saved him. He would think she orchestrated the whole thing to trap him into staying married. He would hate her even more.

Adaline grabbed a tissue from the nightstand. She carefully wiped down the glass of water she had touched. She wiped the doorknobs. She scanned the white sheets and picked up three long strands of her own hair, carrying them to the bathroom and flushing them down the toilet.

She erased every physical trace of her existence in that room.

She walked to the door and grabbed the handle.

"Don't go."

Gerard's voice mumbled from the bed.

Adaline's heart stopped. Her blood turned to ice. She stood frozen by the door, not daring to breathe.

She waited. Ten seconds passed. Gerard rolled over and his breathing returned to a slow, steady rhythm. He was just talking in his sleep.

Adaline slowly turned the handle and slipped out of the room.

The hotel corridor was empty. She took the private elevator down to the garage, got into her Porsche, and drove out into the thick morning fog of Manhattan.

Her phone rang through the car's Bluetooth system. It was Clara. "Where were you last night? You never texted me back. I was worried sick."

Adaline stared at her pale reflection in the rearview mirror. Her voice was completely flat. "I drank too much. I fell asleep in a hotel room. I am fine."

She ended the call. She pulled the car over to the side of the road, put it in park, and dropped her head against the steering wheel. The tears she had held back all night finally broke free. She sobbed loudly in the empty car, mourning the end of her marriage and the cruel joke of last night.